


A Detour to Your Heart

by thekeyholder



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, epic journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two strangers meet in the airport in Moscow a few days before Christmas. Bilbo and Thorin learn that all flights to London have been cancelled, so they have to find other ways to get home. An epic journey ensues through all of Europe, a journey which doesn't lack adventures. And maybe the two strangers won't be strangers in the end anymore...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Detour to Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexisGreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen/gifts), [stargarnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargarnet/gifts).



> One evening the image of Thorin falling asleep on Bilbo's shoulder crossed my mind and I had to write a story around it. :3
> 
> Million thanks to AlexisGreen for betaing this!

Bilbo Baggins was staring out the window of the cab, only noticing that he’d arrived at the airport when the driver coughed to get his attention. He paid and got out of the car listlessly, slinging the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. Bilbo opened the trunk, expecting the cabbie to help him get out his huge luggage, but when he saw that nothing happened, he attempted to take it out himself. All he managed were some rather loud and embarrassing moans. He tried again, but failed.

 

Unexpectedly, a strong hand joined his on the handle and the luggage was suddenly really light. The stranger put it beside Bilbo and closed the trunk. Bilbo had complexities about his height, but he felt even smaller when he looked up at the other man who was taller by a head at least.

 

“Thank you. Uh, spasiba,” Bilbo corrected himself when he remembered that he was in Moscow.

 

The stranger turned his head towards him sharply, his long, wavy locks of hair bouncing in the air, but he just grunted in response to Bilbo’s thanks. They both headed inside the airport, but stopped after a few steps: to say that chaos was dominating the place was an understatement. He expected crowds since it was so close to Christmas, but he could barely breathe there. Judging by the tension and screams in the air, Bilbo suspected something was wrong. As he looked around confused, trying to see what all those people were so nervous about, a flight attendant approached them.

 

“Where are you travelling, gentlemen?”

 

“London,” both Bilbo and the stranger who helped him replied simultaneously.

 

They looked at each other for a moment before turning their eyes back to the flight attendant. “I am sorry, but all our flights to Western Europe have been cancelled due to heavy snowfalls.”

 

Great, just what he needed.

 

“Are you resuming these flights tomorrow?” the stranger asked.

 

“I am sorry, sir, but meteorologists don’t have good news. It looks like there won’t be any flights in the next 3-4 days. The snowstorms are fast conquering all of Europe. However, you’ll get a whole refund of your tickets.”

 

“I need to get to London,” the stranger growled, quite menacingly in Bilbo’s opinion.

 

The flight attendant recoiled. “Try other ways getting there,” she whispered before going to other people.

 

Bilbo followed the man to the displays, his mood ruined by every passing second. Almost every flight had “CANCELLED” beside it in red. Bilbo heard the man’s sharp inhales – he was obviously anxious to get to London as soon as possible. Bilbo too, of course, would have liked to get back there, but not because he missed his home, or not as much as he’d thought he would. No one would be anxious to get back to an empty flat. As Bilbo looked at the long list of flights, one of them caught his attention.

 

“Look,” he said, touching the stranger’s forearm briefly, and then pointed at the screen. “The flight to Vienna is still on. We could get on that plane and take trains from there. We can still make it to London by Christmas.”

 

The man looked at him, his clear blue eyes wide with hope. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I mean we could get to Germany from there and as far as I know there are direct trains or buses to London,” Bilbo said hurriedly.

 

“Good, let’s get our tickets then.”

 

Bilbo practically ran to one of the desks, dragging his heavy luggage after him and dodging people skillfully. The stranger noted that he was remarkably light on his feet and somehow managed to get to the front in no time.

 

“Yes, hi, hello,” Bilbo greeted the woman behind the counter, panting slightly. “Two tickets for the Vienna flight.”

 

The woman typed something, chewing on a gum, then looked at Bilbo and said with a heavy accent: “Sorry, sir. No more seats on the plane.”

 

Bilbo sighed, quite exasperated. “Look, we must get on that plane. Would you check again?”

 

 The woman looked at him disdainfully, pretending to type something. “No. Seats.” Bilbo could swear she added “for you”, gritting her teeth.

 

“You sure?” Bilbo pressed on. “Money doesn’t matter.”

 

He only got a shake from the head.

 

“We accept any kind of seats. Even on the toilet if we have to.”

 

The woman just stared at him.

 

“All right,” Bilbo sighed and was about to turn when something big appeared behind his back, blocking the light.

 

There was a growl and Bilbo could actually feel the harsh words of the stranger vibrating against his nape. He didn’t understand Russian at all, but he was absolutely certain that there was a threat foisted among the low sounds. Bilbo stepped to the left a bit, letting the stranger to the counter. The woman just mumbled something awkwardly, blushing to the roots of her hair. She was already printing the two tickets.

 

The stranger placed his card on the counter and Bilbo wanted to step in and say that he would pay his own ticket, but the man glanced at him as if he’d read Bilbo’s mind and Bilbo didn’t quite dare say anything. The woman gave them their tickets and Bilbo smiled at her gloriously, in a way that said ‘eff you, I’ve got this big guy with me who could snap you in half with his little finger’. Not that Bilbo wanted that, mind you. Okay, maybe for a second.

 

They checked in and sat down on the only plastic chairs that were empty. Since they still had time to waste, Bilbo took out his laptop from the backpack.

 

“I thought we should check what options we have from Vienna.”

 

The stranger nodded. He wasn’t the talkative type, Bilbo conceded and connected to the airport’s wifi. After a few searches on the internet, it became clear that the flight attendant was right and there wouldn’t be any flights operating until the 26th of December. They had to rely on trains and buses and hope that they didn’t get stuck in some foreign country.

 

“So we take that train from Vienna to Berlin,” the stranger said.

 

“Yep. Long ride… but we should make it to Berlin in time and take another train from there, directly to London. If we catch the train at 1pm, we’ll be in London tomorrow evening at ten,” Bilbo calculated.

 

The stranger nodded, stroking his beard pensively and frowning.

 

“It will be really long and exhausting. Plus it’ll cost double,” Bilbo added, not meaning to scare or discourage the man, but to prepare him mentally.

 

“It’s the only way,” the man looked at Bilbo then at the laptop. “Can you buy those tickets online?”

 

Bilbo nodded and the man got up, placing his card on the laptop. Bilbo watched him with wide eyes, but the man didn’t look back at him as he took a few steps and got out his phone. Did he really just give his card to Bilbo, practically a stranger? Bilbo only took it in his hand to see if there was a name inscribed on it as the stranger hadn’t shared that with him, but there were only the initials: T.O. Bilbo got out his own card and bought the two-two train tickets with his money. Meanwhile, he overheard a few bits of the conversation the man was having.

 

“Hi… my flight was cancelled… going to Vienna… don’t worry, please. I’m all right…. Tell the boys I’ll be there by Christmas.”

 

Of course, he was hurrying back to his loved ones. That was surely his concerned wife. He must have had a nice family waiting for him back home. Bilbo gulped uneasily, thoughts of his cold and dark flat coming up in his mind. He didn’t even manage to put up the Christmas lights before he left…

 

“Did you have any luck with the tickets?” the man asked.

 

Bilbo looked up at him. “Yes, got the confirmation emails and everything.”

 

Even his inbox was a sad place: he only got two new emails since he last checked it and even those two were from students who asked if they could have their exams on another date. Typical. The man sat down beside him.

 

“You shouldn’t give your card to strangers,” Bilbo commented as he gave it back to its owner.

 

The man frowned. “I was just there; I would have seen you if you had run away with it.”

 

“What if I had transferred all your money to my account?” Bilbo asked, looking challengingly at the man.

 

“Well, have you?”

 

“No,” Bilbo said and laughed.

 

“Good.”

 

What a strange man. He hadn’t even told his name yet, but he entrusted his card to Bilbo. However, when their passports were controlled, Bilbo let the man in front of him and managed to have a peek at his first name: Thorin. What an unusual, beautiful name! Still, it wasn’t right that he couldn’t even address him, so when they were all settled in the plane, Bilbo turned towards his companion and said:

 

“I’m afraid in all the hassle I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Bilbo Baggins.”

 

The man looked at him surprised, but took his hand readily. “Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Oakenshield… that sounded familiar to Bilbo, but he didn’t know from where. He took out a book from his backpack and started reading it, colourful page markers in hand to indicate his favourite bits. Not much later, though, he started feeling unwell during the takeoff and the book wasn’t enough of a distraction either. His face became very red; he started sweating and he barely had any air. Plus he couldn’t go to the bathroom yet. Why did it have to happen _now_?

 

“Deep breaths, Mister Baggins,” Thorin told him and then took Bilbo’s left hand and pressed a point around five centimetres from his inner wrist. “Close your eyes and think about the happiest place you’ve ever been. Meanwhile press this point continually.”

 

Bilbo did as he was told and after five minutes he felt his nausea fade away and the weight pressing down his chest dissipate. He opened his eyes and met Thorin’s inquiring blue ones.

 

“Thanks for the tip, I feel better now. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. I forgot the medicine the doctor gave me at home,” Bilbo explained.

 

Seeing that his companion didn’t say anything (he really wasn’t a chatterbox, was he?), Bilbo asked: “Do you have flight anxiety yourself?”

 

“No, but my elder boy does,” Thorin replied curtly and returned to his notebook.

 

Bilbo frowned, he hadn't even noticed when the man took out the notebook. It looked as if Thorin was drawing something, but Bilbo couldn’t really see what it was as the man was leaning forward, his long hair hiding the page from curious eyes. It was only then that Bilbo could notice without being accused of staring Thorin’s rich hair: a few silver strands lurked through the black curls and he gulped as the want to pull aside that soft curtain and take a look at the paper grew stronger.

 

He returned to his book with a sigh. Bilbo then thought about what Thorin had said. So he did hear well and Thorin had children. It made sense, though, what else would make a sane person take up such an insane journey? On the other hand, Bilbo was most certainly a bit… mad. He just saw the hopelessness in this man’s eyes and made Thorin’s wish his own. How crazy, to follow a man through all of Europe on a “quest” that wasn’t even his!

 

Moreover, despite his aversion to flight, he knew this was the easier part of the trip. They had been flying for an hour and had another two to go. How easy it would be to take another plane from Vienna! Now they had to waste almost two days on the roads and they would be dog-tired by the time they arrived home. Bilbo could just simply sleep the whole Christmas through, but Thorin certainly wanted to spend it with his family. Bilbo decided to go back to his book and stop prying into other people’s life.

 

* * * * *

 

It was like this every time: Bilbo’s luggage _always_ showed up last. He was used to it, but he wished it would have been different this time for Thorin’s sake. The man was obviously not acquainted yet with Bilbo’s formidable ill luck; things just broke around him and he was involved in many accidents; in brief all the possible bad things happened to him. His father used to call him a bad luck magnet.

 

Nevertheless, when Bilbo’s luggage finally showed up, Thorin was there to help him with it. They made their way to the bus that would take them to the railway station. Since the bus was packed with people, Bilbo sat on his huge suitcase, looking out the window, while his stoic companion stood there beside him, contemplating the darkening sky.

 

They rode in silence for a while, the view becoming much more interesting as they neared the city centre. Suddenly, Bilbo smiled as his keen eyes settled on a familiar sight in the distance.

 

“Look, the Ferris Wheel! It looks amazing at night.”

 

Thorin agreed silently.

 

“That’s the Hofburg palace right there. Another amazing sight, even at night,” Bilbo sighed and admired the building. He leaned against the window, his hot breath steaming the glass.

 

“I take it you know the city then?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, smiling at the memory. “Oh yes, I spent a year here with my mother when I was fifteen. She taught at the university.” He hated the way his voice started quivering whenever he mentioned his mother.

 

“That huge building is the Museum of Natural History. I spent many hours there.”

 

“Don’t they have minerals there?” Thorin turned, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

 

“They have a beautiful gem collection,” Bilbo agreed. “It’s definitely a fascinating place, you should visit it sometime. Well, we should be close now.”

 

He got up from his suitcase and went closer to the door, Thorin following him. It was almost eleven in the evening, but the city was still bustling. Since they still had two hours till the train left, they decided to have a late supper for their stomachs felt quite empty. They both dismissed the fast foods and entered a small, dingy restaurant that Bilbo would have probably avoided normally, but he was starving and he had Thorin with him.

 

“Seems like we’ll have to settle for stew,” Bilbo concluded as he watched the meagre selection on display.

 

“As long as it’s warm,” Thorin grunted.

 

The men sat down at a small table, piling their luggage in a corner. At Bilbo’s suggestion, they each bought a glass of mulled wine. The food was surprisingly good, so they dug in. Bilbo didn’t mind the silence. He thought of himself as a chatty person, or at least he used to be one, but he realised that this was comfortable and satisfying. He was suddenly very grateful for Thorin’s presence, even if he barely knew the man. Bilbo reckoned that if he hadn’t met Thorin he would have stayed in Moscow until the end of the storms, considering the journey too dangerous. His thoughts were interrupted by Thorin’s phone ringing.

 

“Hello,” Thorin greeted the person on the other line.

 

Bilbo was sitting close and he heard children screaming and then a woman’s voice who tried to outshout the racket.

 

_“Hey, Thorin! I hope I’m not interrupting you?”_

 

“No, we’re just having dinner,” Thorin said and glanced at Bilbo who quickly returned to his plate.

 

“ _Okay, so I guess you landed safely. Anyway, these little monsters refuse to go to bed until they talk to you,”_ there was a pause as the woman spoke to someone else in the background: “ _KILI, STOP TUGGING AT MY BLOUSE OR I’LL TELL SANTA YOU WERE A NAUGHTY BOY THIS YEAR AND YOU WON’T GET ANYTHING FOR CHRISTMAS!”_

 

The threat shut the children up and Bilbo didn’t hear anything else of what Thorin’s wife told him (she _had to_ be his wife!), for she didn’t have to shout anymore. He only heard Thorin saying goodbye and promising to text the woman from time to time. Then Bilbo heard two very excited voices and he knew Thorin was now talking with his sons.

 

Bilbo told himself to mind his own business and continue eating, but how was he not supposed to stare at Thorin when the man was smiling? He was broody and grumpy most of the time, but now his features relaxed. The line between his eyebrows disappeared; his eyes were filled with a warm light and the skin around them crinkled with mirth. He spoke softly and Bilbo’s heart swelled with unspeakable feelings when Thorin uttered his promise:

 

“Fili, Kili… I’ll be there with you on Christmas and we’ll decorate the tree together. Just promise me you’ll listen to your mother. Now go to sleep, it’s late.”

 

Thorin put away his phone and resumed eating. Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that his companion’s short beard didn’t hide his smile. He took a swig of wine before asking:

 

“Your sons are missing you?”

 

What a stupid thing to ask! Bilbo wanted to slap himself the moment he uttered his question.

 

“My sons? No, Fili and Kili are my nephews, Mister Baggins,” Thorin smiled and Bilbo froze for a moment as he realised the smile was directed at him.

 

“Oh, I’m s-sorry, I assumed you were t-talking to your wife and sons,” Bilbo stuttered and he felt his cheeks blushing (he’d blame it on the wine).

 

Thorin laughed. “I’m not married. That was my sister, Dís, and her sons. We’re just really close. What about you, Mister Baggins?”

 

“Please, call me Bilbo.”

 

“Well, Bilbo… don’t you want to call your family? Your mother?” Thorin asked, probably just out of courtesy.

 

No, no, the pressure that made his chest tighten had to disappear. He had to keep his tears in check. Maybe if he stared at the ceiling long enough, they would stop forming at the corner of his eyes. Bilbo refused to cry in front of a stranger. For God’s sake, he was thirty-seven, not five! But it just hurt so much and the pain was so fresh and he was so alone. He wiped his eyes as if he was just sleepy and looked away.

 

“I have no family… not anymore. In fact, I travelled to Russia because my mother fell ill. She passed away a few days ago.”

 

Bilbo, turning away completely in his chair, couldn’t look up from the ground and he just kept wiping away his tears. He barely registered the sound of Thorin setting down his glass and his chair creaking against the floor. Bilbo breathed in, scolding himself for breaking down in front of a strong man like Thorin who surely despised weak people who cried, especially in public.

 

Instead, he felt a soft fabric brush his cheeks and he glanced up through his tears. Thorin was there, crouching in front of him, and wiping his eyes delicately.

 

“That was very insensitive of me, to ask you so bluntly. I apologise, Bilbo.”

 

“It’s all right, you didn’t know,” Bilbo mumbled into his chest and sniffled, taking the handkerchief from Thorin and wiping his eyes again.

 

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Thorin whispered and Bilbo could see in the man’s blue eyes that he meant it, because he knew how painful it was to lose someone dear.

 

He nodded and composed himself. Thorin sat back on his chair, but Bilbo could feel his eyes on him. He only noticed then that he creased Thorin’s handkerchief between his fingers and smoothed it out. He found it odd that each corner bore Thorin’s monogram. Handkerchiefs were old-fashioned as they were, but handkerchiefs with monograms were quite unusual. He wanted to give it back, but then again, he didn’t think Thorin would want a piece of fabric full of Bilbo’s DNA, so he put it away in his pocket.

 

“Do you feel better?” Thorin asked and Bilbo nodded, smiling weakly.

 

They got up and shrugged on their coats, dragging their luggage behind them as they exited the restaurant.

 

* * * * *

 

They were inside the train cabin and Bilbo saw on Thorin’s face that his companion had the same thoughts as he did.

 

“It’s so small!” Bilbo complained in a hushed voice and leaned in to Thorin as the taller man placed their suitcases on the shelf above their heads: “And it’s so full!”

 

Thorin hummed in agreement and looked at the people with massive suitcases crowding the corridor. Their cabin had six seats and it was full already. Bilbo asked if he could stay at the window and Thorin nodded. It was comfortable enough for him, but he noticed that Thorin was fidgeting – he couldn’t find a good position for his long legs.

 

“Do you want to switch places?” Bilbo asked, although he doubted Thorin would find more space for his legs.

 

At Thorin shaking his head, Bilbo whispered that maybe people would get off and then they would be more comfortable. Surely not everybody travelled to Berlin. He opened his backpack and rummaged through the snacks that he’d bought for the journey. Thorin looked amused when Bilbo practically stuffed his backpack, him only having bought some water, but Bilbo’s mother taught her son to be prepared for everything. Bilbo offered an apple to Thorin and wiping his own with his sleeve, he bit into the juicy fruit.

 

Honestly, there wasn’t much to do. It was around midnight and the lights were turned off as soon as the conductor checked their tickets. The wisest thing would be to nod off after they ate their apples. Or talk, but Thorin didn’t look like he’d be willing for a late night whispered conversation and honestly, Bilbo didn’t need to embarrass himself by involuntarily telling his companion how handsome he was or how his profile looked so regal. So he just leaned against the window and let the train rock him into sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

Bilbo woke up when the train stopped. He looked around confused and watched as people got off, but there were lots who got on too.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“We’ve just entered the Czech Republic. Go back to sleep,” Thorin whispered.

 

“Look, the seat in front of me is empty. Let’s switch places so you can stretch out your legs,” Bilbo mumbled sleepily and got up.

 

However, his legs were unsteady and he would have toppled over if Thorin hadn’t caught his forearm.

 

“Oh, sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Bilbo apologised, as Thorin got up and guided him to the seat.

 

Bilbo heard a sigh of relief as Thorin stretched out his legs and slipped lower on the seat. Bilbo dozed off again with a lazy smile gracing his lips.

 

* * * * *

 

Sleeping in a train couldn’t be compared to the comforts of a bed – Bilbo woke up every time the train stopped. He felt sorry for Thorin, though, who seemed incapable of taking a nap.

 

“Are we in Germany already?” Bilbo asked, leaning over Thorin’s shoulder and craning his neck as he looked for a sign with the station name.

 

“No, we’re in Prague.”

 

Of course, that would explain the masses swarming on the platform (where were all these people going to?). Bilbo waited for the train to depart and people to find their places before he went to the toilet. There, he cursed the cold and hurried up. The water was nearly frozen and he wiped his icicle fingers against his corduroy jeans. Bilbo stopped at a window in the corridor, folding his arms against the draft. He watched the white landscape – the snow was barely ten centimetres high, but it started falling more heavily.

 

Bilbo went inside and put on his scarf. He wondered if it was only his sleep-deprived body feeling slightly cold, or if someone turned off the heating system. He rubbed his hands and Thorin glanced at him for a moment, before his eyes returned to the winter wonderland outside. Bilbo sat down and nudged Thorin’s leg with his:

 

“Is sleep still eluding you?”

 

“It does. But you should try and say hi to it from me,” Thorin replied.

 

Bilbo smiled sweetly. “Will do.”

 

Before he sank into unconsciousness, Bilbo realised that if he had travelled alone, he would have stayed up alert, worried about his luggage being stolen or something happening to him, but his companion made him feel secure.

 

Worries really stood no chance beside Thorin.

 

* * * * *

 

He didn’t feel like waking up, but the world was just too bright. Bilbo felt so warm and content, he closed his eyes after a look at the white landscape. He leaned against the headrest and pulled higher the soft thing that was covering him. It smelled so good, like exotic, warm spices and something deeper, richer that he couldn’t identify.

 

It hit Bilbo only minutes later. _What was covering him?_ He opened his eyes, startled to find a familiar dark blue coat laid over him. He sat up quickly and looked around alarmed at the other people. The cabin was full again, but everyone was asleep and luckily, Thorin wasn’t there. Bilbo leaned against the seat, more relaxed, and took a deep breath with his eyes closed. He pretended like he wasn’t really sniffling Thorin’s coat, as if he hadn’t just rubbed his nose against the soft fur trimming and imagined snuggling against its owner.

 

Of course, that had to be the precise moment Thorin returned into the cabin. He stepped carefully over the tangle of feet and nodded when Bilbo smiled at him, his cheeks red. Bilbo didn’t know what to do: should he even mention his makeshift blanket or just give it back and pretend that nothing happened? He decided to be polite and, although he hated to part with it, he took off Thorin’s coat and put it back on the hanger.

 

“Umm… thank you for the… umm, coat. It was kind of you.”

 

Thorin took in his flushed state with a raise of his eyebrows. “They stopped the heating for a while and you looked cold.”

 

It sounded so natural, as if Thorin did that every day, tucking a stranger in his coat and enveloping them in his lovely scent. But from Thorin, it did come off as the normal thing to do, and no, he definitely didn’t do it because he liked Bilbo or anything. So Bilbo just mumbled his thanks, embarrassed that his thoughts raced in another direction.

 

“I think the train is delayed,” Thorin changed the subject, as if sensing Bilbo’s discomfort.

 

“Oh no, really?” Bilbo asked worriedly.

 

“The train had to go really slowly because of the snowfall.”

 

Bilbo noticed that there was significantly more snow here – the blizzards hit Western Europe much worse. His eyes, however, settled on Thorin and Bilbo noticed how tired he looked and he felt guilty for having slept so long while Thorin couldn’t even have a short nap. His blue irises were faded and the white of his eyes was strewn with tiny blood vessels. Bilbo wished he had some eye drops at him because Thorin’s bloodshot eyes must have stung. His contemplation was interrupted when Thorin asked how much time they had to catch the train from Berlin.

 

“I’m not sure, maybe fifty minutes? Let me check on my phone,” Bilbo replied. “We should arrive at 11:55 and the train to London leaves at 12:55. So an hour. I hope we’ll catch it.”

 

“Weren’t there other trains too when we checked it yesterday?” Thorin asked, scratching his beard, which Bilbo noted was a nervous habit.

 

It was only a day before that they met in Moscow? How strange!

 

“You are right, there were. Changing tickets, though, that might be tricky. But we’ll figure it out.”

 

* * * * *

 

Unfortunately, changing tickets for another train was their only option. In the end, they only arrived in Berlin at 13:20, with almost an hour and a half delay. Apparently, these trains often had twenty-thirty minutes delays even when the weather was fine and what they had now was far from it. Bilbo looked around surprised. The railway station in Berlin was immense; he compared it to a slightly terrifying, alien mother ship. As they made their way to the front, where the ticket offices were located according to the signs, Bilbo also noticed signs for showers. He pointed them out to Thorin as well who found it a good idea if they had time.

 

As expected, the queues at the ticket offices were long. Bilbo and Thorin had to wait half an hour before they got to the front. Thorin looked impatient, but Bilbo forced himself to put on his most charming smile.

 

“Hello! We have a bit of a problem here. We had tickets for the 12:55 London train, but we missed it, sadly. We arrived with the train from Vienna and it had a considerable delay. So we were wondering if we could change our tickets for a later London train?”

 

“All right, let’s check what we can do,” the lady said and Bilbo gave her the ticket numbers.

 

“Oh no… I have some bad news for you, sirs. All the trains to London have been cancelled for an indefinite period. The only good news is that you’ll get back 75% of the ticket price.”

 

“Wait a second… you are saying there is no train to London anymore?” Thorin asked, exasperated.

 

“No and sadly, I don’t think there will be any tomorrow either because of the weather and the holidays. I’m sorry.”

 

Bilbo saw a vein throbbing on the side of Thorin’s forehead and the way his face darkened; he dragged the tall man outside before he exploded and did something stupid that would get them into trouble. Bilbo threw his backpack on a bench and sat down, his head spinning with bad news. He massaged his forehead and flinched when Thorin kicked the garbage can beside him.

 

“This is all your fault!” Thorin bellowed.

 

Bilbo looked up sharply, the blood in his veins running cold.

 

“You pulled me along on this mad journey, giving me false hope that we could do it. I believed in you because I was so desperate to reunite with my family! And look, now we’re stuck in bloody Berlin, with no trains whatsoever to get home!”

 

Bilbo cowered and wished he could become invisible. No, Thorin was a kind man, why was he doing this?

 

“How do you expect me to tell my nephews that I won’t make it in time? I promised them that I’d be there on Christmas. I cannot disappoint them,” Thorin’s voice broke and Bilbo thought that this part was worse than the shouting.

 

The words hurt him, they really did, but Bilbo wasn’t about to give up, not yet. He knew Thorin wasn’t really mad at _him_. However, there was truth in Thorin’s accusation; he had dragged Thorin into this mess and he’d have to fix it. He’d find a way to get them home. Just then, a colourful flyer on the bench beside him caught his eyes. It was advertising buses to different cities in Germany and abroad as well. Maybe if they travelled to yet another country, they’d have chances of getting a train to London from there.

 

He glanced at Thorin: his companion was seated on the other end of the bench with his head in his hands and breathing noisily. Bilbo took out his phone and checked a few cities and their train connections. He got up and read the flyer again: the bus company’s ticket offices were supposed to be on the second floor. Gently, Bilbo asked Thorin to look after his luggage and headed to the escalator. He found the office easily, booked two tickets to Brussels and hurried back.

 

Thorin was still there, eyes dark and stormy, staring at the phone in his hands and ignoring the masses that were passing him. Bilbo decided to buy the train tickets first to be sure that he had everything covered before presenting his plan. He opened his laptop, paid for half an hour of internet and went to look for trains. The fastest option was to take the Eurostar train from Brussels, only a two-hour journey to London. However, this was the most expensive way too, but right then Bilbo didn’t care about the financial aspect; he just wanted to get Thorin to his family.

 

As soon as he got the confirmation email, Bilbo closed his laptop and went to Thorin.

 

“Hey, Thorin. I know you probably loathe me right now, but I just wanted to give you something. Here’s a bus ticket to Brussels; it leaves at 21:30 from the front of the building. Be there half an hour earlier. The bus will drop you off at the railway station and I also booked two tickets for the Eurostar that takes you to London. So I gave you the bus ticket because you most probably don’t want to travel with me anymore. Just stay with me on the Eurostar till the conductor sees the online ticket and then we can part ways. So… uh, that’s it. I’m going to the showers now,” Bilbo put on his backpack, ignoring Thorin’s stare.

 

Bilbo took a few steps and then returned. “Just wanted you to know that I’m glad we met and I hope I didn’t ruin your day. Oh, and if you don’t have euros, you should take out some money.”

 

He nodded as farewell and went to an escalator, all the while telling himself not to look back. A short acquaintance that he thought was going well. Bilbo sighed; there are people who enter your life who are meant to stay there forever and other leave after only a few moments. No need to cling to someone who doesn’t feel the same way about you. There was nothing he could do about it. But this shower, well, yes, that could help his battered soul a little. Plus it would also help him get rid of the grime of travelling.

 

* * * * *

 

Bilbo took out a clean shirt, his bathing stuff and a towel from his suitcase before he deposited it in a locker, only keeping his backpack. He paid and entered the shower where he took his time. He let the hot water wash away his thoughts and frustrations. Bilbo felt a lot better now that he was clean and put on his shirt. He brushed his teeth and arranged his messy curls as much as he could. Satisfied, he packed away his things in the backpack, put on his coat and exited the place.

 

Bilbo didn’t exactly know what he should do before the bus left. As he looked around, trying to decide what would be his next destination, he finally noticed a pair of blue eyes staring at him. Thorin looked relieved when he saw him and Bilbo couldn’t believe the sight before him or the feelings that it stirred in him. He walked to the bench and sat down beside Thorin, looking ahead and trying to calm down his madly throbbing heart.

 

“I am sorry I shouted all those awful things at you. I acted like a douchebag.”

 

Bilbo snickered. “You haven’t slept all night, you were tired.”

 

Thorin shook his head. “That is no excuse. You were nothing but kind and generous to me on this journey. I checked my card; there is no money missing for the train tickets.”

 

Knowing well the tendency of his ears becoming red in such situations, Bilbo tried to cover them with his curls. “You bought my plane ticket; it only seemed fair to return the favour.”

 

“Please, accept my apologies. I'd like to tell you why it is so important for me to get home for Christmas. Well, that is, if you want to hear it,” Thorin said and cleared his throat.

 

Bilbo turned his head to Thorin for the first time since he sat down. That smell of warm spices that he’d felt on the coat hit his nose again and he closed his eyes for a moment. It was only then that he noticed that Thorin, too, had had a shower and changed his clothes, wearing a burgundy red shirt. The colour contrasted nicely with the paleness of his skin and Bilbo wondered what it would be like to press his lips just above Thorin’s collar. The ends of his hair looked a bit damp and wavier.

 

Thorin turned his head as well and caught Bilbo staring at him. He raised his eyebrows and Bilbo realised he was expected to answer the question.

 

“Of course, I want to hear it. You can tell me anything,” Bilbo replied and Thorin’s features relaxed.

 

“Lunch?” he asked and Bilbo smiled in return.

 

* * * * *

 

They were sitting at a table in a moderately crowded restaurant. Avoiding people or finding a quiet place seemed quite impossible, so they had to make do with what they had. Bilbo thought that Thorin would start telling him his story, but instead he shocked him with a question:

 

“Tell me, Mr. Baggins, did my name sound familiar to you?

 

Ignoring the fact that Thorin went back to “Mr. Baggins”, he was surprised by the accurate supposition.

 

“To tell you the truth, I did, but couldn’t figure out the reason.”

 

“Does _Oakenshield Jewellery_ ring a bell?” Thorin asked as he cut his steak.

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he set down his fork. He hadn’t heard the name in many years, and he didn’t remember all the details either. It was something about a fire and the tragic death of the famous jewellery’s owner. Oh… that must have been Thorin’s father. Bilbo turned his eyes towards his companion and Thorin nodded, almost imperceptibly.

 

“I see you remember the fire,” Thorin stated. “It was twelve years ago. The jewellery was going well, so we were a really wealthy family. We lived in a big mansion and had everything. My father was home alone; I drove Dís, my sister, to the doctor’s – she was already pregnant with Fili then. The bastard who destroyed us knew when to strike, so no one could help my father.”

 

Bilbo already felt terrible and he knew it would only get worse.

 

“Smaug and his men broke in. They forced my father to sign papers, selling the business to this… madman,” Thorin greeted through his teeth and clenched his fists.

 

“Look, you don’t have to tell me, I can see it is very painful for you.”

 

Thorin patted Bilbo’s hand. “I know I don’t have to, but I trust you. I think you know the rest anyway. My father took a hit to the head and the house was set on fire. No one could save him.”

 

“I am so sorry,” Bilbo whispered.

 

“The house burnt down, the company and everything else became Smaug’s property. My sister and I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go, if not for our cousins who let us stay with them. I started working for another jeweller. It was going well; I helped my sister, especially after her husband died in the war four years ago.”

 

“Oh, poor boys… it must have been very difficult for them.”

 

“It was. Still is. I want them to have everything. My biggest dream ever since has been to rebuild my father’s company and house, to regain what we have lost. That is why I went to Russia, to work.”

 

Bilbo was puzzled. “You work there? But why?”

 

“I’d worked for three years, actually. To be honest, the pay was much better there. I worked for wealthy, aristocratic families.”

 

Thorin then passed something to Bilbo over the table: it was the mysterious notebook in which Thorin had been drawing. Bilbo opened it and marvelled at the beautiful jewel and sculpting designs.

 

“You sculpt as well?” Bilbo asked, surprised, leafing through the notebook.

 

“I specialise in work with gemstones.”

 

“That is very impressive. What was your biggest project?”

 

Thorin leaned against his chair and replied without any hesitation. “Recreating the Amber Chamber from Catherine’s Palace in Saint Petersburg.”

 

“The Amber Chamber? That is… crazy.”

 

“Crazy is an understatement.” They both smiled. “It was on a smaller scale, but it involved tremendous work. Of course, I wasn’t the only one hired, though.”

 

They ate in silence for a while, until Bilbo realised something.

 

“Thorin… Umm, you said you’d worked there for three years. Does that mean that you won’t go back anymore?”

 

“I believe I have enough to start a business again. Some jewellers who used to work for my father said they would return and collaborate with me. We’ll take back what was ours.”

 

“I’m sure the business will prosper again,” Bilbo said and smiled encouragingly. “I’m glad you won’t have to be far from your family anymore; it must have been hard for you. Your nephews will be thrilled to have you back.”

 

“That is why I’m hurrying back. I had gone home for short holidays and they have visited me, but it’s not the same. I think Dís will be the happiest about my return – she’ll be relieved to have a babysitter.”

 

“I don’t think you’ll mind that, though,” Bilbo smiled.

 

“No. Plus the boys are older now, even Kili started school this year. They are nice lads, they just tend to become loud and mischievous from time to time.”

 

The two men got up and since they had a few hours to waste they decided to have a look around shops. Thorin was looking at some toy cars for his nephews, but couldn’t decide which ones to buy.

 

“Mister Baggins, which one should I buy?” he held up a red Ferrari and a silver Mercedes.

 

“The Ferrari, but please, don’t call me Mr. Baggins, even my students call me Bilbo.”

 

“You’re a teacher?” Thorin asked, looking at Bilbo in astonishment at first, but then he smiled. “Of course, that explains the heaps of books you bought.”

 

“Sorry, I cannot control myself when it comes to books or food.”

 

 _‘Or handsome men with deep voice like you,’_ Bilbo added in his mind.

 

Thorin just smiled amusedly, as if he could read his mind.

 

“Let me guess, you’re an English Literature teacher.”

 

“I wonder what gave me away?” Bilbo laughed and nudged a grinning Thorin to the cash register.

 

* * * * *

 

They had a light supper and Bilbo stocked up on his food supplies. He was proud that he did so in Vienna; otherwise they might have starved in the train (okay, not really starved…). Incidents like this proved that anything could happen on the road and he had to be prepared. As nine o’clock would soon be upon them, they took out their luggage from the lockers and headed towards the exit.

 

Despite the long and stressful day, Bilbo felt somewhat content and excited. Moreover, he was even happier about Thorin coming round. It seemed that Bilbo’s companion felt relieved after their discussion – he surely got rid of a heavy burden. In addition, Bilbo also noticed that Thorin didn’t look so grumpy anymore and he smiled more often. Every time he saw Thorin smile, though, Bilbo felt dazzled and had to remind himself to breathe. He ignored the worried voice in his head that warned him about the unavoidable parting that would happen soon.

 

Thorin and Bilbo got on the bus after their tickets were checked and they placed their luggage in one of the lateral compartments. The bus was moderately crowded and when they found their seats, Thorin automatically offered the one by the window to Bilbo. They took off their coats and got comfortable, watching the lights as the bus made its way out of the city.

 

“You should call your sister before it gets too late,” Bilbo advised his companion.

 

“You’re right. I called her in the afternoon, but I should let her know that we made it to the bus.”

 

Bilbo listened with delight when he heard Fili’s and Kili’s excited voices. They were slightly disappointed that Thorin hadn’t arrived that evening, but they understood that it wasn’t his fault. They only had to sleep one night until they would meet again. They were also delighted when Thorin told them that he’d met Santa Claus on the way.

 

After he finished the call, Thorin turned to Bilbo. “Would you like to see a picture of the boys?”

 

Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. He thought Thorin would show him some pictures on his phone, but instead the man took out his wallet. Thorin took out a photo and gave it to Bilbo. It was taken a few months before; the boys were sitting on a huge pile of yellow leaves, grinning at the camera.

 

“The blonde one is Fili,” Thorin commented. “He’s eleven and wants to be a vet or astronaut.”

 

Bilbo laughed.

 

“Kili is seven and according to Dís, he’ll be a professional heartbreaker,” Thorin added with a chuckle.

 

“Oh, I can see that,” Bilbo smiled. “They are beautiful children. It must run in the family.”

 

He did _not_ just say that! Bilbo coughed, blushing and cursing himself, but Thorin just hummed as he put away the picture. He seemed a little preoccupied, so Bilbo didn’t want to disturb him. That was why he was taken aback when Thorin asked him.

 

“Bilbo, you’re living in London, right?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“But your mother was in Russia?”

 

“Oh, you see, my mum was adventurous,” Bilbo grinned. Somehow it didn’t hurt talking about her; he just felt nostalgic. “She travelled a lot when she was young, but then she met dad and they settled down. I was a late child with no siblings. Dad passed away when I was ten.”

 

Bilbo paused for a moment as he noticed Thorin hanging down his head.

 

“Anyway, mum would have liked to leave behind London, but we only actually moved that one year in Vienna. She knew I wasn’t completely happy there, away from friends, so we moved back to London the next year. Then when I went to Uni she thought I was big enough to live alone. She packed up and travelled around Europe, settling down for some places for years, teaching, but mostly working on her books. She had a nice life. Her last city happened to be Moscow.”

 

Thorin nodded understandingly. “Did you… get to say goodbye to her?” he asked gently.

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“You don’t have other relatives then?”

 

Bilbo shook his head. “No, we didn’t keep in touch with anyone.”

 

They changed the subject and Bilbo opened a pack of biscuits. Thorin nibbled his biscuit slowly and Bilbo noticed that he looked really tired. The poor man hadn’t slept in over thirty hours. As if on cue, Thorin yawned. He blinked a few times, struggling to stay awake.

 

“You should try and get some sleep, Thorin. I don’t think your nephews want a zombie uncle for Christmas.”

 

Thorin chuckled and Bilbo wanted to somehow capture that sound and listen to it when he was in low spirits. The lights were turned off and soon people only spoke in hushed tones. Bilbo felt peaceful; he glanced at Thorin who had already closed his eyes and turned his attention to the snowy road outside.

 

A few minutes later Bilbo heard soft breathing beside him; Thorin had fallen asleep. What a relief! Bilbo didn’t feel sleepy enough yet, so he took out his iPod and listened to soothing music for a while. He wondered if Thorin ever sang – he was sure that his companion’s deep voice was wonderful in songs too. Bilbo noticed that Thorin’s head had lolled to the left, closer to him. He put away his iPod, closed his eyes and let the rocking of the bus drift him into sleep.

 

Soon, Bilbo felt something on his right shoulder. He opened his eyes lazily and noted that Thorin had slipped in his seat and was now soundly asleep on his shoulder. Bilbo smiled, amazed by the pleasant warmth. His heart was having a celebration right then. Carefully, he turned his head and after a short moment of hesitation, he placed a sweet kiss on top of Thorin’s hair. Bilbo then smiled and rested his head against Thorin’s, too happy to care about the consequences.

 

* * * * *

 

When Bilbo woke up, it was still dark, but the few road signs he saw were in French. They must have been in Belgium already. He lifted his head from Thorin’s slowly. He wondered if Thorin had woken during the night, if he realised the intimate position they had slept in... Ten minutes later or so, Thorin stirred and Bilbo promptly turned his head and looked at the snow-covered fields. He didn’t want the man to feel uncomfortable.

 

Thorin woke up for a moment, his brain still addled by sleep, but he just turned his head away from Bilbo’s shoulder and dozed off again. Bilbo sighed and leaned against the cold window.

 

* * * * *

 

“Bilbo, wake up. We’re almost there.”

 

Thorin’s gentle voice woke Bilbo. How strange, he was just staring at some crows and now they were meandering through the wide boulevards of Brussels. Bilbo sat up, rubbing away sleep from his eyes, and stretched his arms. Thorin offered him his coat and he put it on, already shivering at the thought of being outside in the cold. It was around half past seven by the time they arrived to the central railway station. Bilbo sighed with relief when they stepped inside and their train was listed on the display.

 

They had coffee and croissants in a café, while watching news in the telly. They didn’t understand much, but it looked like the snowstorms had now moved to Central and Eastern Europe. Bilbo and Thorin took their luggage yet again and embarked on the last part of their journey. Other people carried wrapped presents, which reminded Bilbo that it was the 24th of December. He found it incredibly hard to believe. Normally, he’d be home baking or decorating the tree. He wondered if any store would be open that day since his fridge was empty.

 

The train was there already, so Bilbo and Thorin got on. After so many foreign languages, it was weird, but comforting to hear English being spoken. Finally, the Eurostar left the station and it was as fast as they expected: after all, it was supposed to arrive in London in two hours. Thorin took out a little bag and told Bilbo he was going to the bathroom to refresh himself.

 

In the meantime, the conductor made his appearance as well.

 

“ _Votre billet_ _, s'il vous plaît_. Your ticket, please.”

 

When the conductor reached him, Bilbo showed the man his phone with the booking.

 

“Mais non… I need a printed ticket.”

 

“But look, here’s the ticket number and every other information. You can check it with your colleagues,” Bilbo explained.

 

“No, no, you could have photoshoped this.”

 

Bilbo started feeling exasperated. “I can show you the email confirming the purchase of two tickets.”

 

“No.”

 

“Please, sir, we’ve been on the roads for over 36 hours. We had no access to printers,” Bilbo gesticulated as he spoke, trying to remain calm.

 

The dispute became ever heated; Bilbo was usually a patient man, but he stood up and argued with the conductor who refused to contact his superiors in order to check the e-ticket number. Bilbo was about to explode when a deep voice interrupted the fight.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Bilbo sighed with relief when Thorin appeared.

 

“This gentleman refuses to accept our e-tickets. I showed them to him on my phone and the e-mail which attests the purchase.”

 

The conductor’s face was not red, but purple. He continued to shout about the passenger’s duty to present paper tickets and he accused Bilbo of being extremely rude. Since they didn’t have valid tickets, he threatened the two men of getting them off the train at the nearest station. However, when Thorin heard these words, his patience too went out the window.

 

Thorin stepped beside Bilbo and put his left arm around the smaller man, holding Bilbo tight to his side.

 

“First of all, you shouldn’t use that tone with travellers. Secondly, our tickets are very much valid if only you’d be kind enough to call your colleagues to check the numbers. Thirdly, we have travelled through the whole continent because of the snowstorm in order to get to London and we sure won’t give up now and get off at the next stop,” Thorin growled.

 

Bilbo stiffened at first when he felt Thorin’s arm around his shoulders, but his companion’s words made him swell with pride. He looked defiantly at the conductor who cowered visibly at the sight of Thorin. He had no choice but to call his colleagues who naturally confirmed the purchase of the tickets, so he left with his tail between his legs. Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other and broke out in a smile. Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder and then released him.

 

Bilbo missed the touch as they finally sat down, imagining how lovely it would be if Thorin and him… well… were more than mere strangers who happened to have the same destination. Bilbo spent the rest of the journey biting his nails and practising in his mind how he would ask for Thorin’s number or email address. Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy sadness enveloped him. In less than an hour he and Thorin would part ways and probably never see each other again. Thorin would soon become the owner of a successful jewellery; he wouldn’t care about a boring, clumsy professor. He glanced at Thorin’s majestic profile, committed it to memory and sighed.

 

“My sister just texted me. They have arrived at the railway station,” Thorin said, his face radiating happiness.

 

Bilbo smiled. “Only ten minutes left. I can’t believe we made it.”

 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Thorin said softly.

 

They remained silent for the rest of the journey, although excitement was bubbling inside them. Bilbo tried asking for Thorin’s number a few times, but his lungs and vocal chords simply refused to work. His courage had vanished as well. Bilbo sighed as he buttoned up his coat, a painful lump forming in his throat. He would have to resign himself to the inevitable parting. He put his hand inside the pockets and felt something: it was Thorin’s handkerchief, the one with the monograms. Bilbo bit his lip and decided to keep it as a memory.

 

Thorin was still as helpful as ever, taking Bilbo’s heavy suitcase while they got off the train. The two men had barely made a few steps on the crowded platform when they picked up on cheerful voices.

 

“Uncle! Uncle!”

 

Two little bodies (no doubt Fili’s and Kili’s) collided with Thorin’s. Bilbo watched with wide eyes as Thorin threw down his bags and hugged his nephews to himself; the boys clutching his coat tightly.

 

“Finally, we thought you’d got lost…”

 

“So happy you’re here, Uncle! You have to see the tree we bought, it’s even taller than you!”

 

Bilbo noticed a smiling woman approaching them. She was tall and her dark hair was even longer than Thorin’s. If there was any doubt about her identity, her blue eyes left no place for suspicion: she was certainly Dís, Thorin’s sister. She smiled kindly at Bilbo and laughed when Thorin hugged her. Bilbo smiled, despite the pangs in his heart. He pondered leaving, but he couldn’t just go without saying goodbye.

 

“You must be Mister Boggins!”

 

Bilbo looked down at the source of the voice: it was little Kili, grinning and nudging his brother. He didn’t have the heart to correct the boy, though.

 

“Just call me Bilbo. You are Kili, right? And Fili?”

 

The boys were ecstatic that he knew their names and they practically bounced around him when he gave a chocolate bar to each.

 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Bilbo. Thorin told us how much you’ve done for him,” Dís came over and shook hands with Bilbo.

 

“Such a pleasure to meet all of you. I’m glad we made it to London, although a bit late.”

 

The boys took one of Thorin’s bags and Dís the other one as Thorin and Bilbo finally looked at each other. _‘Come on, Bilbo, ask for his number. Ah, never mind, you’re a coward. Just say goodbye and go.’_

 

“So… uh… thanks for everything, Thorin. It was great meeting you. Merry Christmas.”

 

Bilbo took his suitcase and was about to go when there was a strong hand on his wrist.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Bilbo looked at the long fingers, then up at their owner.

 

“Do you seriously think that I would let you go?” Thorin asked amusedly. “That I would let you be alone on Christmas?”

 

Bilbo was at a loss of words: he must have fallen asleep on the train and this was a dream. But Thorin was smiling at him so sweetly and then he stroked Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo let out a shaky breath and Thorin leaned in to whisper in his ear:

 

“Please, Bilbo, will you come home and celebrate with my family? Fili and Kili already love you and Dís was already a fan of yours when you got me out of Russia. We’ll have a lot of cousins coming over tomorrow and they are nosy and loud, but they are good people. What do you say? Do you accept my invitation?”

 

Bilbo was so stunned, he surely wouldn’t have believed that this was reality if he hadn’t felt the breath of Thorin’s words caressing his ears. Then Thorin rubbed his bearded cheek against Bilbo’s and the tickling made him giggle. Really, Bilbo had no choice but to say…

 

“Yes!”

 

Thorin kissed Bilbo’s cheek, laughed and took Bilbo in his arms, whirling him in the air. Bilbo’s surprised exclamation made him laugh even more, but he put down the smaller man with a fond smile. Bilbo looked around, blushing when he noticed people staring at them. But then his eyes fell on Thorin’s nephews and Dís who highfived each other, clearly happy about this turn of events.

 

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Lead the way then.”

 

Thorin hugged Bilbo to his side and they strode happily after Dís and the boys who mocked their uncle and his “boyfriend” by making kissy faces at each other. Naturally, they were happy that their uncle found someone. That Christmas was memorable for everyone.

 

Even years later Bilbo and Thorin’s unusual meeting was one of the family’s favourite stories. Thorin and Bilbo continued to go on trips in faraway countries, exploring unusual, exciting worlds and gaining new memories, but they always made sure to get back home in time for Christmas. Fili and Kili were happy for their uncles and made sure to annoy them by making kissy faces at each other whenever Bilbo and Thorin lost themselves in each other’s gazes.


End file.
